"Huh—what!?"
The man jerked in shock, nearly knocking the boar off the fire. His eyes widened as he spun toward Zephyrion.
"You… you're real?"
"…I am."
Now fully turned, Zephyrion took him in. A thick black beard consumed most of the man's face, yet even through it, he could see the same features as the statue he had seen earlier.
'It's him.'
Demorian, the third head of house.
Zephyrion watched as the man began to circle him slowly, his gaze fixed on him with fascination.
"Wow… a person. You're tall. Solid."
Every now and then, he reached out to poke Zephyrion, only to widen his eyes when nothing happened.
"…you're not disappearing. Huh… you're real real."
"Meaty, too."
'Is it really him?'
The man before him was rough, caked in dirt, barely clothed, and utterly unhinged. Nothing about him matched the image of a Calderalth head of house.
"…wait."
Demorian came to a stop, one hand rising to his chin as he fell into thought.
